Reckoned from One Midnight to the Next
by orangeflavor
Summary: "Grief is not something you can lay to rest beside your bed at night and take back up in the morning. It is always there. Festering while you sleep. It stays. It lingers. It bleeds into your days until your world is rife with it." - Kaidan in the aftermath of Shepard's death over Alchera. A tale of heartache and healing in two parts.
1. Dusk

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: A little exercise in poetry-prose fusion.

Reckoned from One Midnight to the Next

Chapter One: Dusk

" _He takes his carrion heart with him everywhere. Lays it in his lap and watches it. Pulls the blankets over it in the night and tries to smother it."_ \- Kaidan in the aftermath of Shepard's death over Alchera. A tale of heartache and healing in two parts.

Day 1

What is a day?

An increment of time.

A measured length of duration corresponding to a rotation of the earth on its axis.

A particular period of the past.

(but what is a day?)

Kaidan can only think of one word for that question:

 _endless._

The day Shepard dies Kaidan stops living as well.

* * *

Day 2

The second day is harder than the first.

Kaidan's spent hours telling himself it didn't happen.

(it didn't, it didn't, it

did)

Telling himself he didn't break from the sealed air of his escape pod and into the biting cold of Alchera. Frantic. Body aching. Eyes searching. The frozen plain littered with other escape pods along the distance.

He tells himself he didn't call out Her name. Again. And again. Didn't plod through the snow. Trip. Push himself up at the knees. Gasp for air through the filter in his suit. His arms shaking as they push against the snowy banks. Everything spinning. His breath, hot and panting in his helmet. Her name.

"Shepard!"

(they never found her body)

He sits along a snowy bank in the makeshift camp, waiting on an Alliance ship passing through the sector to receive their distress beacon. It is night. Minimal flares cast harsh slants of light around the small huddle of salvage and tents. Kaidan looks at his hands, gloved and trembling. Palms up.

He takes a ragged breath in. Blinks furiously behind the glass of his helmet. He curls his fingers into fists, then slowly, unfurls them. He does this several times. Clenching. Releasing. His breath catches.

The second day is harder because now he knows it _did_ happen.

 _he is knee-deep and filthy in it_

* * *

Day 3

He doesn't feel much.

Not because of the frigid cold. Not because of the armored suit keeping him from the world.

Kaidan trudges through the snow with the other officers that survived the crash, headed across the frozen lake to the snow-filled banks that hold the _Normandy_ wreckage. They go to gather any undamaged equipment. They go to gather any salvageable supplies.

Kaidan goes to _see_.

It takes them several hours to sift through the aftermath, cataloguing the damage, taking what they can. An ensign, face pock-marked and red, voices a question.

"Where are the bodies? They deserve a burial."

Kaidan stills mid-crouch as he's pushing a seared metal sheet of hull from over a navigational console. His mouth forms a tight line. His elbow locks.

Someone behind him answers. "Burned up, son. Nothing left to bury."

Kaidan wants to throw up. But he's trapped in his suit. Can't get out. Can't get away. Can't breathe, can't fucking breathe, can't –

Kaidan drops the piece of debris and jolts up. Stumbles over the snow to the edge of the broken hull. Leans up against the hulk of _Normandy_ , one hand curling around a jutting barb of metal, the other slamming in a tight fist against the hull. Snow rattles from the wreckage and he _screams_. Once. Short and broken.

(like the last moment between them)

He pants helplessly inside his helmet. The tears are hot on his lids and uncontrollable. The salt sting of sudden loss. He slams his helmet into the hull with a gasping sob, holds it there. Tries to breathe. His chest hurts. It hurts unlike anything he's ever felt before.

 _fingers blood-slicked and sure, skimming along his heart_

(not Her touch)

The wind whips against him harshly but he doesn't move. He squeezes his eyes shut and keeps his face pressed against the dead metal of the _Normandy_. His jaw hurts with the harsh clench of his teeth. A choked, wet sound bubbles up from his throat and he slams his fist back against the metal.

He sees Her face behind his lids and can't fucking _breathe_.

(oh, how She must have struggled)

"Sir?"

A woman's voice jolts him.

But it isn't Her voice.

Kaidan flattens his palm against the hull and looks up, locking gazes with the woman. She has a hand spread tentatively toward him.

Her face is young. Too young.

Too pure and freckled and

kind.

Kaidan tastes bile along the back of his tongue.

"Are you alright, sir?" she ventures softly, taking a step closer. Her grey armored suit is stark against the white snow.

Kaidan swallows thickly and pushes from the wreckage, his hands going limp at his sides. He simply stares at her for long moments.

The young ensign shifts uncomfortably. "Sir?"

 _but what can you say?_

* * *

They make it back to the campsite by nightfall. Engineers re-pressurize and oxygenate the escape pods and use them as food stations. Oxygen tanks are distributed throughout the crew and they cycle clean air back into their suits. They establish a med-center and a waste station. And they wait.

Kaidan is persuaded to finally eat. Nothing has any taste.

He lies awake in the night and watches the stars. He tries to count them. Tries to recall the constellations. He recites the names of the solar systems and the planets. Then tries to mentally alphabetize them. He makes up stories for the names. He creates histories and fantasies and legends around them. He gives each world a soul and then tries to learn it.

Inside, he is screaming.

(flaring like dying stars)

* * *

Day 5

The Alliance finds them on this day.

Kaidan gives his initial report and lets the doctors examine him. He doesn't understand why he misses the suit when they take it from him. He stands in the med-bay in his grey Alliance issued tee and boxer briefs. He is ushered to a bed.

He asks for a shower.

Later, they tell him. Later.

He is dehydrated and fatigued but none the worse for wear. He watches the others being brought in, some on stretchers, some ambling slowly in on their own feet. His implant is scanned. He starts slightly at the sharp injection in his arm. He looks down and sees the needle in his flesh, and then watches it pull back out. He blinks and licks his dry lips. Someone's hands are urging his face to turn. Another pair of hands lifts his arm and wraps a band around it. He feels a bit dizzy. Lays his head back against the pillow. His vision inks black for a second and he opens his mouth to speak but it is a croak that comes out, raking along his throat. His lids are heavy. His whole body feels weighted and immovable.

(dark space)

(is this what it felt like?)

Kaidan isn't aware of Her name along his lips as he loses consciousness.

* * *

He wakes to find his cheeks wet with tears he doesn't remember shedding. The med-bay is dark, only the faint dim of the deck lights allowing for Kaidan's sight. He glances around and finds his fellow crewmates in a similar state around him. All lying on medical beds and hooked up to monitors. There are several makeshift cots throughout the room, all filled. He can glimpse the image of a doctor sitting at her desk across the room, the orange light from her terminal flickering across her broad face. She does not notice he is awake.

His throat is dry. He smacks his lips and tries to swallow. He blinks up at the ceiling. Tries to curl his fingers and stretch his toes. His breathing is a bit uneven. The sound of steady ticking monitors is like a staccato to his ears, the light fuzz of static filtering toward him. His nostrils burn from the sharp antiseptic.

Shepard is dead.

Kaidan sucks in a sharp breath and holds it. Feels the air burning hot in his chest and it doesn't hurt near enough. It doesn't hurt near enough to take his thoughts from that one inevitable, unavoidable thought.

He coughs a disbelieving laugh.

(laugh because you can't cry, you can't, you can't, you

Everything shatters suddenly. His face crumbles, his hand rising up to cover his eyes and the tears are instant. He pulls a ragged breath in and shakes with the unexpected sob. He cannot stop. He cannot stop this wave of sharp agony that rolls over him, threatening to overtake him. Sweeping him up. Carrying him out with the quick and breathless sobs that rack his body. He cries and he cries and he cries. Unending. Unrelenting.

He doesn't think it will ever stop.

 _Shepard is dead._

He doesn't think he has tears enough for such stark grief.

* * *

Day 9

Kaidan is on medical leave in Vancouver. He sees the appointed therapist and counts the seconds of his sessions. None of them know. None of them will ever really _know_.

He takes his carrion heart with him everywhere. Lays it in his lap and watches it. Pulls the blankets over it in the night and tries to smother it.

He keeps it tucked inside his coat at the funeral. It is not for the world to see. They don't deserve his tears.

The service is stark and simple. The way She requested.

He is not surprised to see the others. Garrus keeps a heavy talon along Tali's shoulder through it all. Wrex is awkwardly large in the crowd, and the krogan ends up walking away halfway through Hackett's eulogy. Kaidan wishes he had as well.

Something about Liara's tears angers Kaidan. Just the sight. The uncontrollable sobbing. The quaking hand held against her mouth. Her eyes when she looks at him.

Kaidan clenches his jaw tight and flexes his fingers. Is that what he looked like when he cried? Is that what his sobs sounded like? Is that how his own desolate grief tastes?

 _like chalk and syrup_

He cannot look at her. Turns away and tries to still the tremor in his jaw. Tells himself not to cry. They don't deserve his tears.

They are only for Her.

You can cry your piece when you've made sure that bedroom door is closed. Made sure it's locked.

Kaidan leaves the funeral silent and worse for the world.

(look at how he quivers)

* * *

Day 12

Endless.

 _days and nights and days again_

Too many hours and not enough time.

* * *

Day 17

He is brushing his teeth when it hits him.

He remembers a glimpse of the Normandy in space as it burst into bright blooms of ruin. Sailing through the space above Alchera, wisps of smoke and fire licking around the escape pod's window.

Kaidan stills his hand on his toothbrush, slowly pulling it from his mouth.

There was an explosion. Sharp and brilliant and deafening.

He had watched it happen. He had watched the destruction and wailed.

Kaidan feels the bile rising in his throat a second before he retches into the sink, his whole body shaking with the force of it. His hand slips along the sink edge and he heaves again, intensely, his skin bursting red with the effort. He coughs and spits, his knuckles white along the smooth porcelain. His knees give out and he is falling to the floor.

Falling.

Fallen.

* * *

Day 21

His mother calls and calls but he never answers. His leave is over soon. He hardly notices. His kitchen is ripe with the scent of half-empty food cartons and the sour tang of old milk.

Kaidan sits at his couch and stares at the glass of whiskey on the coffee table. He doesn't drink it. Just stares at it.

His personal terminal is flashing in the corner of the room. There are 37 unread messages waiting to be opened. Waiting to be read. To soothe. To offer. To plead.

He doesn't want any of it.

He looks at the glass before him, amber liquid glinting in the steady flash of the terminal across the room. The tears appear unannounced. Again.

He is just so tired of crying.

He has been washed dry and only wishes to wrap in on himself like the dead, curling leaves of autumn. Wants to catch the coming winter wind and let himself be dragged away. Up and up and into the air. Dancing in the chill, bright sky as the sun beats down. Searing his dry, bristle edges until they light magnificently. Burning as he dances.

Ash on the wind.

 _embers like stars_

* * *

Day 23

Kaidan wakes to Anderson pounding on his door. He opens it.

They stand watching each other for several moments. There is everything and nothing shared between them.

"You look like hell, son."

Kaidan tightens his hold of the door until his knuckles are white. "There are worse things," he croaks. A moment. A heavy swallow. "Sir." A puff of tired breath.

Anderson brushes past him into the apartment.

They talk and scream and pretend to listen.

(there is no one there to _listen_ )

Nothing is said that hasn't been said before, and so Anderson leaves, face grim, pulling his cap harshly down along his forehead.

The sun is sweltering outside.

* * *

Kaidan goes to sleep that night curled in on himself. He has no tears left. No wails. No screams.

But the nightmares don't stop.

His fingers dig into the sheets and he sweats heavily, forehead pressed into the mattress, sweating. Still sweating. As though She were a fever he could drown from his body.

(but She is not the one drowning)

* * *

Day 31

Liara is at his door.

His mouth is open in refusal when she ignores him and steps through the threshold, fingers smoothing down the length of her dress. She clears her throat and walks past him.

Kaidan holds the door open and glares at her. "Get out, Liara."

She pulls a heavy breath in and watches him, hands linking together before her awkwardly. "I'm going to bring her back."

Kaidan's face darkens with rage and he stalks toward her.

Her eyes widen minutely, and her nervous gulp is visible to Kaidan as he stops just before her. "I said 'get out'," he growls.

Liara lifts her chin, undaunted. Her eyes soften. "I mean it, Kaidan. I'll find a way. For her. For you." Her voice cracks and she is looking down at her hands.

Kaidan's skin is tingling, his body flush. Even his teeth ache. Clenched jaw. Tight and strangled words. "Stop."

She looks up at the dangerous crack to his voice. Splintered. Fractured. Somewhere between this world and the next.

 _the afterlife is with us now_

She swallows tightly and reaches a hand toward his cheek.

He flinches, but doesn't tear his gaze away.

She lays her palm along his cheek. Cold. Trembling. His grief is bleeding into his skin. "It can't be over, Kaidan." It is more a plea. More a desperate wish than anything.

His breath rakes through his chest as he holds back the sob.

(but he is all out of tears)

"Please," he chokes. Like the dying light of the sun. "Please, just let her rest."

Liara's eyes shift back and forth between his, her hand slipping from his cheek. She sighs. "I can't."

" _Please_." He steps closer. He needs this. Needs this more than he thinks he might need Her because She's dead and She's dead and –

She's dead.

Immutable.

The dark abyss of the sea when it sighs in the night. Yearning.

Kaidan shakes his head, his voice lodged in his throat.

Liara steps back, takes a look around his house. Sees the glass of whiskey on the coffee table that makes her pause. She doesn't know that he stares at it in the night. Doesn't know that he has seen Her face innumerable times in the toffee colored liquor.

Doesn't know that he wonders, endlessly, if he will still see it when he gets to the bottom of the glass.

Or if She will still be

(gone)

Liara looks back to him. "I can't," she repeats, this time surer. This time shoulders back. There is something adamant in her gaze and it almost breaks him right then. "Just like you can't," she whispers. So lost.

And then she is gone and Kaidan is wondering if he hadn't died himself, over the cold and barren Alchera.

* * *

Day 33

Kaidan resumes his duties with the Alliance because he doesn't know what else to do.

Because it is better than hearing Her voice in the still death of his own home.

(like corpses in his bed)

* * *

Day 47

It is slow-going. Most days are lost. Somewhere between searing pain and unfathomable emptiness.

He has a blank look whenever someone speaks to him. His face, unrecognizable.

 _not his own_

Nobody asks.

He discovers how to speak without speaking. How to touch without touching. How to live without living.

(he doesn't, really)

* * *

Day 68

He is stilled based in Vancouver.

He has learned to hate the city.

(smells too much like Her)

 _snow and pears and metal_

Kaidan goes home. Streams a vid on his projection terminal. Walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. Grabs the milk. Finds the cereal in the pantry.

He remembers that he must call his mother. And then Tali.

The quarian's voice, pitched and tear-laced, filling up his inbox.

Kaidan takes his bowl into the living room. Sits down and finds himself holding a bowl of just milk in his hands. Walks back into the kitchen and opens the fridge.

Box of cereal on the second shelf.

He laughs. Short and catching. As though he has forgotten the sound.

 _his throat doesn't remember what it feels like_

The laughter dies before it is well and truly formed.

He stares at the open fridge for long minutes.

* * *

Day 93

Kaidan's fellow crewmen ask him out for drinks. He has said no too many times. He can see the expected resignation lighting their skin already.

Something in him says yes before he is aware of the words on his tongue.

(he is sick of resignation)

On the fourth whiskey he has lost sight of Her face at the bottom of the glass.

* * *

Day 94

He finds that hangovers don't hurt nearly as much anymore.

(not when there is worse pain in the world)

* * *

Day 142

Anderson tells him his new orders have him stationed on the _Mayback_ for a year.

Kaidan finds himself standing on the dock looking at the ship, duffel back slung over his shoulder. His knuckles are white with his grip, the string thin and threatening in his grasp.

"She's a beauty," comes a voice beside him.

Kaidan turns his gaze smoothly, catching sight of a young man with a face like dusk and summer.

(so, so eager)

The man turns, smile wide, eyes catching along Kaidan's rank insignia. His grin falters, but only slightly, his hand coming up in a quick salute. "Sir."

Kaidan narrows his eyes on the man's face. His cheeks are dusted with freckles. There is the hint of dull brown hair peeking out of his cap. Kaidan sighs, returning the salute. "I'm no general, son. Nor are we on duty yet."

The man relaxes, shoulders loosening. "Sorry, sir. Habit."

Kaidan is silent for a moment, musing. Then he is nodding, adjusting the bag over his shoulder.

The man cocks his head, thrusting out his hand between them in greeting. "The name's Latner, sir. First time space-bound. Blitzed as all hell." His smile returns and it is too bright for Kaidan.

 _bright, burning, blazing_

Kaidan shakes Latner's hand reluctantly, his jaw set. "First time, huh," he mumbles, hardly audible.

But Latner catches it. He beams once more, looking off to the _Mayback_. "Yeah. Fresh out of the academy. Been waiting for this my whole life."

The dark expanse of space stretching out past the dock. Murky.

(if only you could touch the darkness, you know, you know you could)

"Do you know the average force an Alliance cruiser can withstand?" Kaidan's question is smooth and unassuming in the space between them.

Latner glances at Kaidan beside him. "Sir?" His voice. Like honeybees and wet stone.

(two months, tops)

Kaidan keeps his gaze on the vastness of the stars stretching out past the _Mayback_. He has no eyes for the ship. For the cold, metal coffin that keeps his death (for now) at bay.

 _there is no maybe to death_

 _there is only when_

(how he stinks of mortality)

"Fifty four thousand metric tons," Kaidan supplies.

Latner breathes uneasily beside him, voice gone, brows furrowed in question.

"Do you know the speed at which a ship this size would plummet through the atmosphere?" Kaidan's voice is dark and unreachable.

Latner opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

The lieutenant's breath is slow, easy in his chest. Not like he remembers. Not like how Hers must have been. "Roughly twenty eight thousand kilometers an hour. Know what the temperature would be outside the hull?" He looks beside him and finds the man's eyes wide and unblinking.

Latner slowly shakes his head, lips parted, trembling.

Kaidan's smile is small and regretful. "Anywhere up to twenty five hundred degrees Kelvin. The usual Alliance ablative heat shielding wouldn't last more than three minutes if the hull is ruptured." He blinks casually, shifting his weight to one leg.

"Sir, I don't –"

"What about how long your suit can cycle oxygen, huh? Know that one?" Kaidan presses, leaning closer to the lad.

"Uh, I don't…I mean…" He takes a step back.

(no more dusk and summer)

Kaidan's mouth is a thin line. "Forty seven minutes if you keep calm, don't hyperventilate." His chest rises with the heat of his words, his brows furrowing. "But you're shit out of luck if a line's cut."

Latner's shoulders sink in on himself. "I think I better –"

"It's a vacuum out there, Latner. Cold. Silent. Your skin would crack and freeze if you touched it." Kaidan's eyes are wild. He doesn't know how to stop. He doesn't think he even could. Thoughts after thoughts after thoughts. Images. Sharp cutting wisps of epiphany.

What it must have felt like.

What it must have looked like.

How She must have screamed.

(and oh, how She did)

Kaidan swallows tightly, voice stretched thin like his sanity. "Think about it." It is a dangerous whisper and he is lost somewhere between word and thought, so that he doesn't even know if he is speaking. Or if it's just the long stretch of wonder in his mind that takes him. "Drifting through that kind of emptiness. Reaching for something, anything. Grasping at the cold nothing. The hiss of an oxygen leak in your suit. Lungs tight. Searing breath. Still reaching, still grasping. The fucking flames of your ship – your _safety_ – that peaceful, humming death ship, really, the roaming grave, broken up and falling – fiery, destructive, following you down and its hot, it's absolutely fucking searing your skin inside your suit but then it's cold and sharp and your skin feels like glass but you can't touch it – only cool, only breakable – because you're flailing in the dark and then there, _there_ , that looming orb of brilliant blue, a sea you think, an ocean and vast and everywhere and you embrace it because it's so fucking beautiful, just gleaming in the dark, but then you think it can't be real – not this, not this feeling, this blue, this brilliant – and you're sailing toward it, fiery ship trailing you down, right on your heels, burning along your back but you're still sailing toward that blue, that cool, but not _cold_ , not like space, not like that tight, breathless vacuum of dark, no – _this_ – this is not that, couldn't be, because the air has already left your lungs and you can't smell the fire and the glass of your skin has already shattered because you're falling – _falling_ not sailing you idiot, not fucking sailing – and it's not beautiful anymore and it's not blue and it's not brilliant, no, it's white – desolate, barren, like your heart, your heart, your shriveled, bleeding heart, that fucking organ you can't tear out and you would – oh yes you fucking would if you could only reach inside and pull, keep pulling, no more reaching, already fallen, already dead, laying in the white, the desolate, the red sickly stream of your blood staining the snow and the taste is on your tongue, along the back of your throat and the fire has followed you down, down, followed you down where you both lay burning and bloody and waiting – because you never stopped fucking waiting – for the end to come, for the fall, for the break, the rupture – that empty chasm you fall asleep in, where the light should be but not for you, not for you because there is no sleep now, only death, only death and cold and emptywhyisitsoemptypleaseletmeoutjust –

Kaidan stops. He might have said it all. He might have said nothing. All in his head. All in the silent throbbing of his heart. But he cannot be sure.

(please just let me out)

Latner blinks and sucks a breath in.

Kaidan tightens his grip on his duffel back, tasting the coppery film of those words, dying, festering, _waiting_ on his tongue.

(he has nothing to say)

"Welcome to the Alliance, kid." He walks toward the ship and doesn't look back.

* * *

Day 173

Kaidan gets an encrypted message from Garrus. Can't trace it. Can't even reply. But it is the first he's heard from the turian since the funeral. He sits in the mess of the _Mayback_ and soldiers wander by. The projected orange screen of his omni-tool is muted in the bright lights of the ship.

He just stares at the words.

"I'm sorry", they read.

And then like a match –

 _brilliant and momentary_

– the pain is less.

* * *

Day 207

He wakes up this morning and breathing is easier. Lighter.

He doesn't understand how the pain isn't instant.

(time is cruel even when it heals)

* * *

Day 233

Laughter, though tight and unfamiliar, is not forced.

A crewmate slaps a hand along his shoulder and it just

 _feels_

 _so_

 _good._

(he had forgotten warmth)

* * *

Day 271

He feels guilt when he manages a whole shift without the thought of Her.

And then She is everything he thinks about until the exhaustion takes him.

* * *

Day 309

"Always did love the outer colonies," Gunnery Chief Molina observes, arms crossed beside Kaidan as the two stand before the observation lounge windows of the _Mayback_. The planet just past the view is green and verdant.

Kaidan lifts a brow toward his friend (not the right word but there is nothing else that equates).

Molina throws a warm smirk his way and looks back out the window. "I was a colony kid myself," he says, shrugging.

"Ah." Kaidan watches the planet and just listens.

"Too much metal and space will make you sick, you know? Got to have some ground beneath your feet sometimes."

Kaidan remembers the feel of dirt between his toes.

(five years old, scraped knees, a slow sunset)

Molina scratches at his chin. "Someplace to come back to. Once we've stopped searching the stars."

"What's with the sudden wax poetica?" Kaidan's words are harsher than he intends. He softens them with a playful smirk.

Molina's smile falters, his arms tightening in their cross over his chest. "My little girl turned one today."

Kaidan opens his mouth for obligatory congratulations but stops at the look on Molina's face. "That's supposed to be good, right?" His eyes dim.

"I missed her birth too. I was out here." He sweeps a hand out to encompass space.

(out here)

 _it's everywhere_

Molina sighs.

Kaidan cocks his head and looks out past the glass. "She has years yet ahead of her that you'll be there for." It's just speculation, he knows. She could die tomorrow. Molina could die tomorrow. Kaidan has gotten good at false comfort.

"Yeah, I guess." A low hum of thought and then, "You got someone waiting for you, Alenko?"

Kaidan is silent for many moments before he finally speaks. "Yes."

She is really. Waiting.

(just not on this plane)

Molina nods in satisfaction. "Something to come home to," he muses.

The stars are glittering and unreachable behind the glass.

* * *

Day 328

The _Mayback_ reaches the merchant vessel sounding out the distress call too late. The crew is dead. The cargo stolen. Kaidan is assigned to the boarding party. They have to wear their suits because of the chunk of hull blasted out of the port side.

Kaidan breathes in the limited confines of his helmet, his eyes sweeping along the wreckage as the team moves through the small mess hall of the vessel, slow and deliberate in the non-gravity. A food tray and something that looks like corn floats close by and he brushes a hand through the still air to send them out of his view. There is a body, leg tangled in a power cable so that it doesn't drift off into space.

Kaidan looks at the dead man, face unrecognizable. Purple and shriveled. Hands frozen into claws at his throat. He cannot take his eyes from the corpse.

"Sir."

Kaidan turns at Lance Corporal Summers' address and the petite woman is coming out of the hall to his left, body dragging in the loss of gravity, boots heavy on the floor. She pushes a steel sheet of plating out of her way.

"Report." The word comes out like it was made of ice.

"Logs say it was a batarian raid." The woman looks around, the light affixed to the side of her helmet sweeping past him. "They had no chance. Minimal defenses. They surrendered." She growls then, low and tight. "Damn batarians killed them all anyway."

Kaidan watches the woman's slow fisting of her palms, the heavy exhale, the barely there film of wetness over her eyes. He remembers the personnel records he went over when he boarded. "Your sister," he breathes softly, not really sure himself whether it is a question or a statement.

She snaps her gaze to him. The shafts of light from the other crewmen's helmets flit about the dark cabin. "Yeah," she chokes out, her voice like a fish struggling at the end of a hook. "Yeah," she repeats. "She died on Mindoir."

Kaidan nods, understanding.

 _"I was sixteen," Shepard had said._

Kaidan closes his eyes and feels the tingle of non-gravity light along his bones. It would be so easy. Take so little effort. Just a push. Just the lightest pressure of his boots along the hull and then he could be off. Through the blown hole in the ship. Off into the dark. Sailing. Drifting.

Falling.

(maybe she's out there waiting)

It always comes back to Shepard.

"I'm glad you're here, sir."

Kaidan's eyes snap open at Summers' words. She is looking at the ground, fists slowly uncurling. Her shoulders sag, like water-logged wood. Brittle.

He forgets to breathe.

She catches his gaze, head lifted up. "Someone of your experience, sir," she half-mumbles, "well, I know we'll find them. I know we'll make them pay."

It would be so easy.

"Keep looking," he answers, nodding around the hollow ship.

His boots are heavy and weighted along the cold hull.

* * *

Day 364

They catch the batarian pirates mid-raid of another merchant vessel in the Hoplos system of the Hades Nexus. They give the pirates ample time to surrender. The pirates refuse.

Kaidan is part of the boarding party again. The batarian vessel is blown apart by the _Mayback_ 's weapons system while he is gunning down batarians aboard the merchant frigate.

It is over within minutes. They have lost half the merchant crew and three marines.

Kaidan stands over Summers' still body in the cargo hold of the merchant ship. She has a shotgun blast straight through her stomach, entrails spilling out over the grey metal floor. Her hand is stiffly gripping her unfired weapon. Her eyes are wide open and bloodshot.

Kaidan slides his fingers over her lids and lets her rest.

(he thinks the blood should bother him)

He straightens and walks past her to the merchant captain.

(it doesn't)

* * *

Kaidan sits in the empty mess hall of the _Mayback_ that night. He has been granted one of his allotted two beers since finishing his required 60 consecutive days onboard to satisfy Alliance alcohol regulation. The beer sits untouched and slowly warming on the table. His eyes are fixed to the foamy head of the beer as it gradually settles. Millimeter by millimeter.

He thinks about the first time he saw Her.

(brown hair, brown eyes, scar curling across her upper lip and cheek)

 _didn't spare her a second glance_

She hadn't even been pretty.

Kaidan reaches out and grasps the glass. Takes a long, steady sip. Feels the slightly bitter tang and golden wheat of it slide down his throat. He raises the glass once, into the empty, silent air.

"Jenkins."

Another sip.

"Ashley." Wetness at the corner of his eyes.

Another sip.

"Pressly."

This time longer, a heavy gulp. He pauses.

 _that carrion heart, it beats_

"Summers." She had looked everything and nothing like Her.

Half the beer gone.

"Shepard."

He says Her name and She is

She is finally

gone.

He sobs into his hands and finds he still has tears. But they do not drag him down like before. They are not heavy. They don't smell of salt and denial. They are warm. And they are welcome.

And they feel like Her touch, gentle and soothing, on his cheek.

She holds him, palms soft and loving on his face. Her breath, fanning his lips. Her voice.

(not screaming, no)

Her voice.

He can hear Her smile in the dark.

He leaves the rest of his beer untouched. He is done toasting the dead. He lifts his fingers to his lips and tastes Her there.

 _like pears and gun polish_

She does not leave him. Even into the night, when he curls around a pillow and dreams

dreams

dreams

of Her.

 _he sees her face in nebulas of light and dust and sound_

 _and she is not_

(gone)


	2. Dawn

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Reckoned from One Midnight to the Next

Chapter Two: Dawn

" _Grief is not something you can lay to rest beside your bed at night and take back up in the morning. It is always there. Festering while you sleep. It stays. It lingers. It bleeds into your days until your world is rife with it."_ \- Kaidan in the aftermath of Shepard's death over Alchera. A tale of heartache and healing in two parts.

Day 365

Tali is the only one who tries to call him on this day. And really, he is glad for it. They trade distant words and covered emotion and when Kaidan disconnects the line he finds the permanent grimace has gone from his face. The quarian's voice had been filled with barely-veiled concern, her tinkling laughter like crushed orchids to his ears. But it lights something of fond remembrance in his heart. And when he thinks of Her it is not so drowned anymore. Not so desolate.

It has been the longest year of his life. But it is over. And he doesn't want it back. Doesn't want to feel its jagged, bloody claws digging into his back as he turns from it. Tries to step forward. Tries to walk. Steady and unafraid.

(really he wants to run)

Tries to remind himself that She has not left him. Not truthfully.

(She never did)

Kaidan's steps are like a quiet shadow.

 _the sun on his face_

 _it isn't blinding anymore_

* * *

Day 398

He tries to get in touch with Liara. Her extranet messaging account is offline.

He wonders if she still cries.

* * *

Day 434

"You served on the _Normandy_ , right Alenko?"

He knew the question was coming. They had all gone round the table already. Molina was last stationed on the _Elbrus_. Sheza transferred from the _Cape Town._ Dawson was last aboard the _Seoul_.

He had time to surreptitiously excuse himself from the conversation before his turn came around. But Kaidan had sat, prepared and, surprisingly, unafraid.

His breath still catches when the words leave him. "Yeah, the _Normandy_. That was me."

Lieutenant Dawson leans back in his chair at the mess table and lets out a low whistle. "The _Normandy_." He shakes his head and Kaidan cannot tell if it is awe or pity that colors his voice. "Saw her once. Battle of the Citadel."

Second Lieutenant Sheza leans her elbows along the table, hands alighting on her mug of coffee. "So did I. Damn if she wasn't fast."

Gunnery Chief Molina stretches an arm along the back of his chair. "How'd she fly?" he asks Kaidan.

Kaidan takes a beat, sliding his own mug of coffee along the table between his hands. "Smooth. Could barely feel the kinetic cycling when she kicked through a relay."

"Nice," Dawson says, smiling. He takes a sip of his coffee.

Sheza furrows her brows as she addresses Kaidan. "It was a shame to have her go like that."

 _deafening flares and muted darkness_

"Yeah," Kaidan croaks. Clears his throat. "Yeah." This time surer. Steady. Everything he is not.

Dawson taps a finger along the table. "And her crew." His voice is lower now, cautious. "Lost too many good souls on that one."

Molina grunts in acknowledgement. "One of my buddies back at the academy," he begins, eyes downcast, voice gruff, "Rousseau, he was stationed on the _Normandy_."

Kaidan blinks. It is the first he has heard Molina speak of the man. But then, he never spoke about the _Normandy_ himself.

(dead, like Her)

Dawson rests a palm along Molina's shoulder.

Molina glances up and offers a fleeting appreciative smile. "They never found his body. Presumed dead, like the Commander."

Never found the body.

 _burnt like the cedar his father used to collect for the fireplace_

"They were some of the bravest men and women I've ever had the pleasure of serving with." Kaidan surprises himself with the words. More so with the clarity and evenness with which they come out. His fingers clench tightly around his mug.

Molina nods, pulling in a heavy breath.

Sheza cocks her head Kaidan's way. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. For your loss."

(and what loss, they will never know)

He can only swallow. Only clench his jaw. "It was an honor to serve with them. All of them."

But mostly Her.

"I'm sure," Dawson agrees, hand sliding from Molina's shoulder. "Serving with Commander Shepard? It must have been a dream."

 _he never woke up_

"Yeah," Kaidan answers, voice tight. "I wouldn't trade it for anything in the galaxy."

And he wouldn't.

And he knows.

And it becomes easier to bear.

(wouldn't trade a moment)

* * *

Day 472

They dock at the Czarnobóg Fleet Depot for refueling and restocking of supplies. Kaidan steps off the _Mayback_ and onto the docking lane. He has a few hours before ship personnel need to report back. He plans to meet some of his fellow crewmen at a local bar.

When he gets there, they are already three drinks deep. He tries to catch up. Finds himself falling into conversation much easier outside the cold confines of an Alliance ship.

He has his beer halfway to his mouth when he catches sight of a woman looking at him from across the bar. She has short, blonde hair and unremarkable eyes. But she is smiling, in that furtive, hidden way that catches a man's eye.

Kaidan blinks, mouth parted, hand slowly lowering his beer back to the table.

She lowers her gaze minutely, fluttering her lashes as she dips her mouth to the straw of her drink. She glances back up at him.

He has not stopped staring. She smiles again.

His chest feels tight.

(no air)

Kaidan hardly knows whether to smile back at her or push from the bartop and walk away.

Away.

And never come back.

Fingers gripping his glass until he is sure it will shatter.

 _the quirk of Her lip was something secret and singular_

Dawson's voice interrupts his thoughts. "Almost caught a line out to Amaterasu since we're so close."

Kaidan shakes the woman's gaze from his mind and turns to Dawson. "What?" He is breathless without knowing why.

"Amaterasu," Dawson repeats between two large gulps of beer. "The colony a few light years from here. My cousin lives out that way. Thought I'd have enough time to visit but since we're docking for less than a day there's no way it's happening."

Amaterasu.

Kaidan chugs back the last of his beer.

Ashley.

He wonders if her mother and sisters back on Amaterasu would blame him for Virmire. If they would set their steady hateful gazes on him. If they even knew that Shepard had come for him. That she had to make a choice. That Ashley wasn't it.

But no.

They would welcome him into their home. They would offer him tea or juice and set him down comfortably on the living room couch. They would ask about Ashley's time on the _Normandy_. They would smile their shaky, tear-stained smiles when he answered. And they would nod knowingly.

 _Knowingly._

Her mother would clasp his hand in hers and ask him if Ashley had cried in the end.

(he will never know that she did, terribly and unashamed)

And he would break. Crumble before her warm and wizened face. Drop his head to their joined hands and wail into her lap. Sob "I'm sorry" over and over and over. Wonder if it will ever be enough. Feel her blue-veined hands thread through his hair and he would take it back.

He would take it all back because in the end it didn't matter.

They were both dead.

And he wasn't.

And most days he wished he was.

(together, they might have been)

The woman across the bar gives Kaidan a quizzical look and he pushes roughly from the table, mumbling his apologies to his surprised crewmates and half-stumbling, half-fleeing into the cool filtered air of the spaceport outside.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Learn to live in the aftermath.

That fiery, glorious aftermath.

(his lungs were full of it)

* * *

Day 488

They are on their way back to the Citadel for a personnel change. Kaidan has received his orders already and prepares his belongings.

He remembers sifting through the wreckage of the Normandy. Finding Her Star of Terra stuffed in a commemorative box in the charred remains of Her weapons locker.

He keeps it at the bottom of his bag, always.

The weight of it is like water in his lungs.

* * *

Day 509

Kaidan meets Anderson for drinks on the Citadel. Anderson tells him he looks better. Kaidan replies that he isn't.

It's a lie. Time will do that.

His throat is rife with the guilt.

(not whole but _better_ )

* * *

Day 541

Kaidan is sent to investigate the colony disappearances. He reports directly to Anderson and he already knows Alliance brass isn't getting a lot of – if any – help from the Council.

He can't help but wonder if Shepard would have been capable of persuading them to help were she alive.

But there is no point. She is not coming back. And they are all that's left.

This is it. It's up to them.

 _motes of dust_

Kaidan hopes that he is enough.

* * *

Day 576

"I'm Dr. Inez Lahora." The woman thrusts her hand out toward his.

Kaidan takes her palm in his own, shaking it slowly. Her touch is soft and smooth. No callused palms. No scarred skin.

(rifles had molded Her hands into weapons themselves)

"Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko. Good to have you with us." He hopes his smile is comforting.

She lifts her chin, beaming, her hands moving to grasp themselves behind her as she rocks back on her heels. Her skin is a warm sepia. Her eyes, like the slate grey of his rifle. She is all grace and earnestness. Lithe, like willow reeds.

His smile is suddenly less forced.

She pulls in a deep, satisfied breath. "Glad to be here, Lieutenant. I was honored to be chosen for this assignment."

He nods toward the science lab aboard their ship, the _Tagos_ , and they take off on a comfortable gait toward the opposite end of the hull. "What do you know, Doctor?"

She furrows her brows, eyes dead ahead. "Only that colonists have been disappearing and we don't know jack shit about why."

Kaidan raises a brow at her choice of words and she has the decency to blush, mumbling a low "Sir" that only makes him shake his head, a soft chuckle caught between his lips before it can find its way to air. "I'm not here to curb your language, Doctor. I'm here to find out where our people went." They walk through the sliding doors of the science lab.

"Inez," she offers, her gaze averted as she makes her way to the nearest terminal. "Please, call me Inez. I'm not really Alliance. Just contracted."

(he had only said Her name once, sweat-drenched and panting)

Kaidan tilts his head, a close-lipped smile finding its way along his lips. He leans a hand along the desk as she takes a seat before the terminal. "Well, we've got a lot of data for you to sift through. I hope you're up for it," he responds, pausing, glancing down to her, and then staring blankly toward the terminal screen. "Dr. Lahora," he adds at the end, cordial, unassuming.

She smirks up at him, her hands alighting along the terminal keys. "No problem. I like a challenge," she asserts. She doesn't add any more, turning to the lighted screen.

Kaidan does not look at her. But something warm and unfamiliar curls in his gut. He swallows thickly and grunts his acknowledgement.

* * *

Day 587

Dr. Lahora has a beauty mark above her lip. He notices it when the end of her mouth quirks up in a smirk.

She keeps pens stuck through her thick bun.

She speaks English, Portuguese and Creole.

She likes modern sci-fi dramas and thinks asari techno pop is overrated.

She smells like almonds and iodine.

And she calls him Kaidan. Not Lieutenant. Not Sir. Not Alenko.

Just

Kaidan.

He doesn't know why he hasn't corrected her.

* * *

Day 602

Lighthouse is the fourth colony Kaidan visits that has suffered from the mysterious abductions. It is a minor colony out in the Traverse. Two thousand souls at most. A blip on the radar.

Kaidan treads through the empty courtyard of Lighthouse's town square. His crew has already spread out through the buildings, sampling and observing and conjecturing. He makes his way into an abandoned home. Finds the remains of someone's dinner spoiled and fly-infested on the kitchen table. It taints the air with a sour tang. Off in the living room is the static feed of the local messaging system on the vid screen. He breaks into the sunlit courtyard outside.

Jarring.

That's what this place felt like to Kaidan.

He'd heard of ghost towns before. Heard the whisper on another marine's tongue when they entered the colony. But that didn't feel right. Even ghost towns felt more alive than this. Something lingering. Lasting.

The idea of a 'ghost town' implies the presence of remaining spirits to occupy the space of the once-living.

But here.

(hollow space)

Lighthouse was just

empty.

No lingering presence. No hint of a once vibrant life. Even the half-eaten meals and streaming vids couldn't attest to a former existence. The remainders of the colonists' lives felt more like an insult. A mockery.

 _they were never really here_

So empty. So still.

(halting like a last breath)

Swept away like the half-thoughts of a waking dream. And there is only the impression, the hesitant question of their very existence.

(he tells himself it was a dream)

Kaidan curls his hands into fists and looks up into the clear sky above the town square. The sun is warm upon his face. His slow-brewing rage begins to curl around his bones and seep into his lungs. Until it is all he feels.

 _smells like fire_

Too many gone. Too many lost.

Kaidan makes a promise.

No more empty homes.

* * *

Day 629

Kaidan finds Dr. Lahora in the mess late this night, her fingers tapping confidently over the datapad in her hand, her mug of coffee cool and forgotten on the table.

"Dr. Lahora," he greets, his eyes softened at her responding smile.

"Kaidan," she answers, her whole face alight. She sets the datapad down and pats the seat next to her. "Get cozy. I've got some questions.'

He sits.

They go over the latest colony to be hit. She laments the slowness of the engineering section. He admonishes her for her impatience, good-naturedly. She cracks a joke. He laughs.

He _laughs_.

 _not broken this time, not caught, not choked, just_

full

of ease. Simplicity.

Lahora pulls her knees up in her seat and curls her arms around them. She cocks her head at him and sighs. "You don't do that often enough."

Kaidan lifts a brow her way. "What?"

Lahora lays her cheek on her knees and grins. "Laugh."

Kaidan's throat is tight.

Her eyes are bright and do not tell of battle.

 _the cool silver of water after a storm_

She releases a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. "Sorry. Sometimes my filter fails." She turns her gaze away.

"No," he starts, without realizing why. He promptly closes his mouth. Opens it again. "No, I mean, it's true. I haven't…" He trails off. Because what is there to say?

(he was as dead as Her for so long)

She lays her fingers along the table and taps them softly. "I like your laugh," she breathes quietly, eyes on her thrumming fingers.

Anything he has to say sounds like whining or defensiveness or self-pity. So he simply shifts in his seat. Simply nods, lips tight. "Thanks."

She flashes him a hesitant smile. And then she is moving to stand. "Well," she begins, a huff of air leaving her, "better get to it." She holds up her datapad as she says it, and then she is off.

Kaidan's "goodbye" lingers in the air between them.

(he has grown to hate the word)

* * *

Day 644

He is consumed.

The colonist disappearances. The slow bleeding of human life. Nothing they have uncovered in the last couple of months has revealed anything about the culprit. But he is tired of losing.

They estimate the likely path of the disappearances and make a gamble.

They change course for Horizon.

* * *

Day 667

He is tired of the furtive glances from the colonists. Tired of the grumbling and the narrowed eyes.

He only wants to protect.

Only wants to keep safe that which should be cherished.

Life.

It is so fragile and desolate in his hands. So momentary.

 _a brilliant supernova_

(here for only an instant)

Kaidan keeps the course.

* * *

Day 693

Conversation is easy and natural with Dr. Lahora. He finds his gaze lingering on her smile. His hands treading ever closer to hers.

There is only the hesitant, terrified space of a breath between them most days.

(and Her)

 _always Her_

* * *

Day 712

Lahora kisses Kaidan the same day he hears rumors of Shepard's resurfacing.

The local Horizon bar is cramped and seedy. Miners and engineers drinking away their day's troubles. Kaidan and Lahora sit at the far end of the bar, their drinks half-empty in front of them, their hands still braced along the table.

The kiss is short. And fumbling. Her lips are too wet and tentative on his own. But he slides his eyes closed and tries to ease into the touch.

It is pointless.

(he can only fit to Her)

She pulls back after a few seconds of her cautious kissing. Her face is still close to his, her breath fanning his lips. Her grey eyes shift between his. Her skin is so dark. Warm. Comforting. He wants to wrap himself up in her. Feel the enveloping caress of her flesh against his.

He wants to burrow beneath her arms and her gaze and her lips.

(forgotten)

 _they cannot touch him here_

She blinks, lips parted as though there are words on her tongue, but nothing comes. Nothing happens.

Kaidan clears his throat, inching back.

The world does not fall away when she kisses him.

He can still hear the rowdy calls of the patrons. Smell the heady wheat of the flowing beer. Everything is still stark and vibrant and ever-present.

 _bleeding into his skin, not other-worldly, not Her, but still_

(he knew nothing would taste like Her)

"Was that…too forward?" Lahora asks self-consciously, her shoulders curling in on herself, her head dipping low.

Kaidan shakes his head but doesn't speak.

"Well," she manages, her gaze moving to the bartop. She clears her throat and pushes from her stool. "Well, I'll be back at the transponders. Come by if you'd like." She chances one last look his way.

He can only watch her. Wanting to surge forward and try again. Wanting to hold her face to his. Wanting to simply

want.

(it was always Her)

But he thinks maybe it's unfair to Lahora. Because every time he would kiss her, every time he would hold her, or caress her, or fuck, even _smile_ at her, it would be because he was looking for Shepard in her touch. And he would always be disappointed.

He can abide no substitute.

And pretending is just wasteful. Pointless.

He pulls his hand from hers atop the bar and she slides from him effortlessly, merging into the crowd of the bar until he has lost her.

Until he is alone.

Always.

"Did you hear? Shepard's alive!"

Kaidan stills at the words but does not turn. Several men are conversing behind him.

"You're off your face, Montag! Commander Shepard's dead."

 _dead is dead is dead is_

"Wrong. My cousin, old Harris out on Omega? Yeah, that sodding wanker says she just walked right up into Afterlife. Sauntered in like nobody's business."

"Why would she be on Omega? You're taking the piss, Rockner."

"Am not. Rumor has it she's with Cerberus now."

"What? Now I know you're full of it."

"Fuck you, you slimy bastard, I heard that shit straight. She's flying their colors now."

"What a fucking waste."

"Ain't that some shit. She ain't Alliance anymore, boys."

"Well cheers to fucking that, I guess."

Kaidan sees red. Blinding. All encompassing.

 _her memory, splashed in the vile words of drunken mouths_

He lands a punch along one of their jaws before he knows what is happening.

And then the room erupts in fury.

It is his elbow, cracked sharply across the nose of a second man, his gut, punched in by another's fist, a gasp, his spit flying from him as the thunderous blow rips into him, quick, a knee to the gut – thrashing arms and snarling words – not Her not fucking Her you're wrong – someone grabs his arm, but he's too strong, too warring, too desperate, the man is on the floor instantly, foot to his ribs – he twists, sharp pain in his side, a fist to an eye, something cracks over his skull, his vision blacking out for a split second, for the fraction of a moment when he falters, breath hitched, teeth gnashing, reaching out, pushing further, another punch – fists and elbows and knees and jaws and skulls – no, you're wrong, shut up shut up shut UP – she wouldn't, she _isn't_ – blood sprayed across his cheeks, knuckles raw, another venomous swing, pushing, clawing, grasping – it still hurts, it will _always_ hurt – aching, fumbling, desperate because no, no, she's dead and she's dead and you're wrong – _fuck you_ – because you're wrong and she isn't – his nose, cartilage shattered but it doesn't hurt, doesn't hurt near as much as – _who the fuck are you you fucking bastard fucking cock-up I'll make you bleed come at me like that you absolute and utter shit because FUCK YOU SHE'S NOT I KNOW_ –

and then nothing.

Blissful darkness.

His last thought.

(She threads her fingers through his)

His last thought.

 _eyes like the dark unknown_

Kaidan slumps into unconsciousness.

* * *

Kaidan awakens in Horizon's infirmary. His CO is standing before his bed, arms crossed, face set hard.

He has only been out a couple hours but the reports of the bar fight are still coming in. His CO frowns at him, deep and harsh.

But it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because those words.

Those words he had heard.

(treacherous)

 _like blood from a wound_

He doesn't care if his knuckles scar.

* * *

Day 732

They are whispers when he isn't looking. Thoughts shrouded in shadow. The heady, intangible breath of her existence. Words and accusation and fleeting glimpses he does not trust.

No.

She doesn't live.

She can't.

(She can't because She can't and She

didn't look for him)

Where was she then? If she was so real, where was she? Was she just a ghost? Just the wisp of an image? Just a desperate wish?

 _he has been wishing and dreaming and aching for_

 _just_

 _so_

 _long_

So where was she?

They're wrong.

She'd have looked for him.

She'd have _looked_ for him.

(but he has been so, so lost)

* * *

Day 741

Lahora has been distant. Cautious of this new brooding and distracted Kaidan. She has not pressed her lips to his again. Has only once offered the hesitant touch of her hand on his.

His instant recoiling told her everything she needed to know.

Kaidan hates that he has pushed her away.

In another life. Another time.

The possibilities are endless.

(but this one life has always belonged to Her)

Kaidan offers a weak apology.

She offers a weak smile.

They both go away less for it.

* * *

Day 752

He lies awake at night thinking, wondering, wishing.

If She _is_ alive.

But no.

It would be an abomination. Because he had seen Her. He had _seen_ Her.

 _the blink of an image on the horizon_

He doesn't want to remember. He has spent two years forgetting. He just wants to rest. Please just rest and quiet and no and _please_

(nights like sinking bogs, the air putrid and gagging)

She isn't.

She can't be.

She wouldn't.

 _everything in him is screaming for it to be true_

* * *

Day 761

The sky darkens above them. Kaidan looks up into it as a steady buzzing grows. And then he sees them. A cloud. A wisp of sharp and jagged blackness breaking through the fog. Flitting insects like a horde of locusts. But stinging. Jagged-edged and focused.

"Run!" he shouts.

Lahora doesn't question him. She is sprinting away instantly. Lilith and several other colonists freeze for a moment, eyes bulging and skyward, even as the dark cloud descends.

It smells like rain and metal.

Kaidan fires into the horde of paralyzing insects, back-treading, shouting, eyes frantic. It is chaos in the streets. His biotics flare as he propels a wave of brilliant blue energy into the swarm, blasting the attacking insects back for a moment. Just enough for him and a dozen colonists to make it around the next bend of buildings.

But the sky is flooding and the screams are growing dim and there is a tingle along the back of his neck that is not familiar. His limbs begin to lock. Slowly, haltingly. Enough that he has a second of disconnect when he looks down at his body and it doesn't look like his. He glances back up. His mind is racing a million light years a second.

But his body has stopped.

Wisps of blue biotic energy curl around his form and then slowly ebb, bleeding into the dirt at his feet.

There are several minutes of helpless, silent panic. A keening whimper that shames him. And then even his floundering voice leaves him.

But it is so loud in his head that he doesn't even hear the first arrival. The thrumming beat of wings and alien clicking, deep and resonant.

He feels the dread brushing its fingers along his spine before he even well and truly sees them.

 _Them._

And then he sees everything.

Can't shut his eyes.

Can't turn away.

(like watching the last brilliant explosion of the _Normandy_ through the sliver of an escape pod window)

He can only watch.

Again.

He can only watch as the end unfolds before him.

 _grains of sand_

(the tide has come in)

* * *

He sees Her. For a breathless instant. For a single, solitary moment. Wisping through the streets and engaging the bug-like humanoids with gunfire and ground-shaking biotics. He only catches Her profile, the hard line of Her frown, Her brown gaze averted.

He sees Her in the smooth roll of Her shoulders. The telltale saccharine taste left lingering in the air after Her biotics have exploded out of Her. The unmistakable grace when She pivots in the dirt and surges past the nearest building, out of his view.

"Shepard!" had carried on the wind to him from one of her teammates.

His heart is hammering against his ribs with a force that threatens to break his very chest and leave him shattered in the dirt.

He is grateful for the paralyzing hold. He would fall to his knees otherwise.

Weeping.

Furious.

 _powerless, always with Her_

She's not.

Because She can't.

And She isn't.

(he had _seen_ Her just before the end, jettisoned from the burning wreckage)

 _fire in his lungs, ice in his veins_

Dead is dead is

not.

(monsters sprung from our own shadows that we erringly call the past)

 _they are always with us_

* * *

He finds Her in the aftermath. The alien ship is blasting off into the atmosphere and the feeling has returned to his limbs. He rushes to Her. Finds Her in the empty clearing around the defense canons.

"Shepard." The word is like two years rushing past to make themselves known in a short, choked whisper. If She only knew.

Shepard looks to him and gulps visibly, Her eyes already flooding with tears, Her mouth parted in surprise.

When She says his name he moves to Her without reservation. He is reaching for Her, arms spread wide, breath raking through his chest.

She folds into him like She was made for the embrace.

He holds Her like a promise. Fragile. Grounding.

He buries his face in Her hair and inhales deeply.

 _no more pears and gun polish_

Kaidan's eyes flash open and he is pushing from Her.

She blinks in confusion, stumbling back with the force of his retreat, Her hands moving up to grasp at his own along Her shoulders. "What, Kaidan? What is it?" She asks desperately.

He casts his gaze to the floor. Pulls a ragged breath in. Feels his muscles bunch and uncoil. Digs his fingers into Her shoulders and feels Her resulting wince.

 _solid_

(real, but not _real_ )

He starts to shake his head, his teeth grinding, brows furrowed.

Everything in him is telling him that She is dead.

(you don't come back from that)

Because he had seen Her. He's never told a soul. Sometimes he even wonders if it is a lie he tells _himself_. But then She is floating there again. In dark space. Drifting from the blazing ruin of their ship, their home, their sturdy ground and walls of safety.

What a joke.

(it had taken less than 75 seconds for the Collector beam to decimate the _Normandy_ )

He had _seen_ Her.

Kaidan remembers plummeting to Alchera's surface in an escape pod, three other crew members jostling around the compartment with him. He had glanced out the slim window, twisting his neck to keep the image of the _Normandy_ destruction in his view. Flames licked the outside of the pod, stunting his view with short and brilliant flashes. But it had been enough. He only needed a second.

It was just a second.

(breathe and it's passed)

It was all he needed.

Just before the last shockwave of an explosion rippled through the cold space around the floating ruin, he had seen Her form thrust forcefully away from the careening ship. She had sailed through the darkness, orange blooms of fire reflecting on Her retreating shape. Arms splayed. Reaching. Flailing.

Falling.

(he wonders if She called to him before the end)

Kaidan squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a low, trembling sob. "No," he croaks, releasing Her, stepping away, back turned.

(don't look at Her just don't

look)

He does.

Everything comes tumbling down and before She can reach a tentative hand toward him, before She can part her lips with comforting words, before She can wipe the warm tears from Her unblinking eyes, Kaidan speaks. Or he screams. Or he sobs. He doesn't know. Can't tell. It just crashes from him. Word after word after fragile, aching word. His throat is raw with it. Unending. Overwhelming. He doesn't think he could ever stop. He has no more tears for Her but this. _This_.

"- like you didn't just _die_ , Shepard! Like you didn't just leave me! And how? _How?_ You don't just come back from that! You don't just live and breathe and fucking show up like that. Because you died and I saw it and I _grieved_. I fucking grieved for you, Shepard. Fucking inside out and bloody _grieved_ for you. God, I thought it'd never end. I thought I'd be drowning in this for _the rest of my life_. But then no. No because you're here. You're fucking _right in front of me_ and it makes no sense. No sense _at all_! Like I didn't bury you." His eyes go wide. "Hell, Shepard, I _buried_ you. Never found your body no because…shit, because what could be left to bury? But it was a casket. It was white and beautiful and Anderson fucking _cried_ for you. And we put it deep in the ground and I threw the first batch of dirt on your goddamn coffin and now it means absolutely _shit_! Because you're not in it. You're out here – now – _here_ , and I can touch you. I can _touch_ you, Shepard. And smell your hair and no, you don't smell the same but –" he chokes, words caught in his throat, the realization suddenly splashed across his skin. "And I bet I could fucking taste you if I…if…" His chest heaves with his labored breathing, his feet taking him closer toward Her without even realizing, the words dying in the air around them.

He glances to Her mouth and licks his lips in unconscious anticipation.

"Kaidan." It is a sob.

His eyes flick back up to Hers and She is crying, one hand rubbing at Her tears, a knuckle digging into the socket.

No. Not that. Please not

tears.

She steps into him and he backs up.

Needs to control the space between them. Needs to control whatever

this

is

between them.

She stops, eyes hardening somewhat, shoulders rolling back.

That's it.

Get angry.

Anything but tears.

(he has cried enough for seven lifetimes)

And then Her mouth is opening. And then words like 'Cerberus' and 'revived' and 'mission' come pouring forth.

And then his questions.

And Her answers.

And it is a dance of fear and anger and loss that is played out between them.

The air reeks of rotting.

 _that carrion heart, desiccated_

He looks at Her.

She looks at him.

They do not recognize each other.

(flesh for the crows)

He wonders if he will ever know the feel of Her in his arms again.

But grief is not something you can lay to rest beside your bed at night and take back up in the morning. It is always there. Festering while you sleep. It stays. It lingers. It bleeds into your days until your world is rife with it.

Kaidan has nurtured this grief for too long. It will not go quietly into the dark. It hooks its claws into his heaving heart and anchors itself, steadfast and immovable. When he looks at Her, it is all he can taste.

(drinking in grey and bathing in white)

He wonders if someday it will taste less like chalk and syrup and more like

 _pears and gun polish_.

He wonders if they may ever find their way back to one another.

Kaidan sighs with his whole body.

(but it is not today)

* * *

Day 0

What is a day?

An increment of time.

A measured length of duration corresponding to a rotation of the earth on its axis.

A particular period of the past.

Reckoned from one midnight to the next.

But to Kaidan, the days

 _are long_

 _and empty_

 _and the dawn_

 _cannot_

 _come_

 _soon_

 _enough_


End file.
